We commend unto Thy hands of mercy, most merciful Father
the soul of this our dear brother departed.
And we commit his body to be consumed by fire.
Earth to earth, ashes to ashes,
dust to dust.
And we beseech thyn infinite goodness
to give us grace to live in Thy fear and love...
...and to die in Thy favour.
My dear friend, one moment please.
I am simply trying to ascertain why it is that I have been kidnapped
and find myself hurtling through the countryside of England
at a speed which is quite alarming.
We're going down to a place called Lychett St Mary.
There was a cremation up north, the day before yesterday,
of a client and an old friend of my father's Richard Abernethie.
Richard died a widower with no children.
They're a rather disconnected bunch, the Abernethies. Not close.
There's Helen. She was married to Richard's youngest brother Leo.
He died some years ago.
Their son George is a bit wild, but likeable enough.
- George! - Don't, Mother.
We have to talk about it at some point.
There's nothing to talk about.
George's cousin Rosamund went on the stage
and married an actor, Michael Shane.
Don't overdo it. Nobody will be fooled.
Shut up, Michael! You don't know what I'm...
Her sister Susannah does good works for the church.
- Bye-bye. - Thank you.
Maude is married to Richard's brotherTimothy.
He was too ill to attend the funeral.
I know you want to get back to Timothy.
I'll whiz through things as quickly as I can.
Please, don't rush things on my account, Mr Entwhistle.
And then, of course, there's Cora.
Richard's youngest sister.
It was always understood that Cora... wasn't quite the "full shilling".
The "full shilling"?
Not subnormal, you understand,
but given to making up stories
and blurting out things that were better left unsaid.
And that day she was more excitable than ever to be back at Enderby.
Enderby!
I've missed it so much.
- Miss. - Thank you.
(Hushed conversation)
All this from corn plasters.
It just doesn't have any gravitas, does it?
Why, everything's the same.
It hasn't changed a bit!
I don't know why we've all come, really.
George is going to get the lion's share and the rest of us tuppence ha'penny.
What?
Oh, yes, well, I might throw out a little Maundy money,
if you all promise to be good.
Helen says you're working for the Church Mission Association, Susannah.
- Yes! I am. - Highly commendable.
I'm trying to help the needy children in Africa.
Poor Richard.
Most of the younger members of the family had only heard about Cora.
I'd only met her once.
She hadn't changed much.
Still as unguarded as ever.
Dear, dear Lanscombe.
Do you remember when you used to bring meringues out to the tree house for us?
- Madam? - Aye, I do, Miss Cora.
We had a tree house in the grounds.
We'd camp out down there when there were parties and watch the guests arrive.
Timothy,
your father Leo,
your mother Geraldine and me.
Oh. The doll's house.
It's still here.
And the same old toasting fork we used to toast muffins on.
- Cora hasn't changed. - She's put on weight.
And all the books and all the paintings...
Honestly, what a fright.
The outfit is totally unsuitable.
And look at that false hair.
Don't be catty, Rosamund.
Aunt Cora ran off with a penniless Italian painter. She was just a girl.
It's rather romantic.
I have to go and see the old tree house.
Oh!
It seems downright unbelievable, looking at her now.
- George. - Gilbert.
Have you come to pray for my salvation?
And then...
You read the will?
Yes.
You see, the family expected his nephew George to get the lion's share,
as he was Richard's favourite
while his brother Timothy would get nothing at all.
They'd fallen out years ago.
As you may know, Richard appointed me executor of his will.
Did he leave me anything?
After legacies for the servants,
an annuity for Lanscombe, and a small award for myself,
the house and the estate are to be sold...
...and the proceeds divided equally between...
Timothy,
Cora
- Rosamund... - (Laughs)
...Susannah and Helen.
What about George?
It seems George has been disinherited.
How much?
I can't say with any accuracy but it should cover your needs for the foreseeable future.
Oh, goody. I shall go to South America.
(Cora giggles)
I was as surprised as everybody else.
I knew Richard had intended George to be the sole heir.
Ah.
That's what had been in every version of the will.
I'd been on leave so I hadn't had a chance to read this latest version.
Richard did change it frequently, adding this and that,
but never so dramatically as this.
(Train whistle)
Helen, could I ask you to stay on and go through Richard's things?
I can't believe that Richard has disinherited George.
I was here with him at Enderby, almost to the last. I nursed him.
He always led me to believe that George was to inherit the estate.
To change his mind without a word ofwarning...
Yes, he didn't say anything to me.
But at least you're all right. Your visits to him were a great help.
Oh, for heavens sake! It's George I'm concerned with.
And then Cora properly put the cat among the pigeons.
Still, it's been hushed up very well.
Of course, it's quite the right thing to do.
It can't do any good, making it public.
I don't quite understand what you mean, Cora.
But he was murdered, wasn't he?
Aunt Cora!
Cora, really!
Sorry, I-I didn't mean to...
Oh, how stupid of me.
I did think from what he said...
Oh, dear, forget I said anything. It was really very stupid.
Please, forget it.
I know I'm always saying the wrong thing.
Sorry.
I'm sorry.
I'll make arrangements for the house and the estate to be put up for sale as soon as possible.
You could have cut the atmosphere with a knife.
So this is where we are going, hein?
To see this Cora and ask her to explain?
We're going to see her, yes.
But unfortunately we can't ask her to explain.
You see, yesterday afternoon, Cora was hacked to death by an intruder with a hatchet.
The doctor puts the murder in the afternoon.
No later than 4.30 and probably much nearer 2pm.
Somebody smashed the kitchen window and attacked Mrs Gallaccio in her bed.
A particularly brutal attack, as you saw. Six or seven blows were struck.
She was in her bed during the daytime?
She'd slept badly.
She sent the companion into Reading to exchange some library books,
and took some sleeping pills.
She'd have been drowsy, if not already asleep, when they broke in.
So a hatchet seems well, excessive, to say the least.
I suppose the companion could have done it.
Two women living together alone,
you never know what resentments build up, but by all accounts they got on well.
And was anything stolen, Inspector?
Bits and pieces of jewellery, nothing of any value.
They could have taken whatever they wanted.
And this is the odd thing.
We found them shoved in a hedge, not far from the cottage.
I suppose the murderer may have had a sudden panic or a fit of remorse,
but, in my experience of criminals, it's unusual.
So, with your permission of course, Inspector,
I would like to pay a visit to this companion.
Oh, please do. She's a sensible enough woman.
Let me know if she says anything new.
Oui. Merci.
And then, on top of everything else,
I discovered there was a break-in at the office on the day of the funeral.
The Enderby deeds are missing, and I haven't had a chance to attend to it.
But if the deeds are missing...
The house can't be sold and the family can't get their money.
A break-in on the day of the funeral, the deeds of the house go missing.
This is indeed a big coincidence, n'est-ce pas, monsieur?
Yes, I suppose it is.
Listen, Poirot you will take the case on, won't you?
It would be a great favour to me if you did.
Oui, monsieur. I will take the case.
The inspector assures me she didn't suffer.
The first blow would have killed her.
Oh, dear, I do hope so.
I'm so glad you've come, Mr Entwhistle.
- Mr Poirot. - Mademoiselle.
I don't know Mrs Gallaccio's family.
I'm rather nervous about meeting them.
Mrs Gallaccio bought them at sales.
She always thought there was a chance of picking up something worthwhile.
They're Mrs Gallaccio's own paintings.
- They're very good, aren't they? - Oui.
Of course, I don't know enough to judge, although my father was a painter.
Not a very successful one, unfortunately.
But Mrs Gallaccio knew a great deal about artistic things, poor soul.
- Ah, it is the oil paint. - Yes.
She liked to paint in here.
And you got on well with your employer, mademoiselle?
Oh, yes.
In some ways she was rather like a child.
She was not an intellectual.
Perhaps more of an instinctive.
But she was very shrewd, Mr Entwhistle.
It quite surprised me sometimes, how she hit the nail on the head.
And you had been with her for a long time, hein?
Three-and-a-half-years.
You acted as companion and er... looked after the house?
I did the cooking and light dusting. None of the "rough".
Mrs Panter from the village came in for that.
I don't think of myself as a servant, Mr Entwhistle.
I would very much like to see the bedroom of Madame Gallaccio, if that is convenient?
Inspector Morton said it was all right to clean after the police had finished.
I haven't touched her personal things, of course.
Bon.
Did Cora talk about her brother's funeral?
She said the chapel was filled with flowers.
She was very sorry not to see her other brother. Timothy?
Timothy, yes.
Oh.
C'est trés délicieux.
These scones, they are made by you?
I've always had a hand with cakes.
Oh, dear, that sounds as if I'm boasting.
No, no, no, not at all.
You do not boast, Mademoiselle.
Tell to me, if you please...
...how was Madame Gallaccio when she returned from the funeral?
The night she got back, she was happier than I'd seen her for some time.
She asked me if I'd like to go to South America.
I said it would be a thing to dream about.
And she said, "We'll go!"
Just like that!
I guessed her brother had decided to leave her some money after his visit here.
He came down here?
Yes, about three weeks ago.
It was a surprise for Mrs Gallaccio.
She hadn't seen him since before her marriage.
It quite upset her...
...realising he was so ill.
He told Cora he was ill?
Yes.
It reminded me of an old aunt of mine.
I wondered if he might be suffering from some softening of the brain.
Why did you think this?
Mrs Gallaccio said he'd started to get ideas that someone was trying to poison him.
What?!
Please go on, mademoiselle.
She dismissed it, of course.
Old people get fancies like that, don't they?
Imagine the desperation of the people
when the rain doesn't come and the crop fails.
It's hard for us here in England to believe there is poverty and hunger in the Empire.
Our vision of Africa is one of exoticism and adventure.
But the mission at Kasane is a hand-to-mouth affair.
Most of the children there cannot read orwrite.
They have no means of improving their lives so they may escape from poverty in the future.
These children need a school.
Our mission in Bechuanaland is to bring education
and, above all, hope,
to the people living there.
I hope you will all give as generously as you can.
Thank you for coming.
So few people are interested in mission work.
It's a little dispiriting.
Susannah...
Gilbert... Mr Entwhistle rang with the most shocking news.
It's Cora. She's been murdered.
What?
It seems a burglar broke into her cottage the day after the funeral.
He stole some jewellery, and he killed her.
Oh, no.
She must have good nerves to stay in there on her own.
I suspect it is that she has nowhere to go until she gets another situation.
Er... monsieur, I discovered this.
"And please don't say anything to anyone about what I told you.
It maybe a mistake.
Your loving brother, Richard."
Good Lord.
Does that mean he told Cora who he thought was trying to poison him?
Perhaps.
Cora Gallaccio announces that her brother has been murdered
and then the very next day she is killed most brutally.
Well, let us suppose that she was speaking the truth
and that your friend Richard Abernethie was indeed poisoned.
Who benefited from the death of Richard?
The whole family. Apart from George, of course. And myself, to a small degree.
Ah, so you yourself are a suspect?
- Now, look here, Poirot... - Non, non. Je fais une blague. I make a joke.
Monsieur, we shall go to see the family.
And we shall tell to them that I investigate the death of Cora only.
That way we may be able to catch them off their guard.
For it is necessary that I ascertain the whereabouts
of each and every member of that family on the day after the funeral.
You're entering just a tad early, my sweet.
So, I don't enter on "and now he says he's going to show her the evidence"?
No, no, darling. You enter on "she despises him".
Don't sit down immediately. Keep standing until...
How exciting! You're most frightfully famous!
You read people's minds, psychology sort of thing.
Mais d'accord. It is the way of human behaviour that interests me.
- I could murder that director! - Sorrel, do come back!
My apologies, Madame, for intruding at this time so sensitive.
It is unfortunate, is it not,
to lose two members of one's family so closely together?
It is, isn't it?
Although I can't think why anyone would want to murder someone like Aunt Cora.
It would appear that it was a burglar
who broke in to steal some of her possessions.
Please do forgive me,
but it is necessary that I ask you both where you were on the day after the funeral.
We were at home till eleven then you left to have lunch with Oscar.
I was to meet my friend Jane but we missed each other
so I had a lovely day shopping.
We dined after the show and got back to the flat about midnight.
You do not feel well, Madame?
First-night nerves.
I'm always queasy,
especially when it's absolute rubbish, like this one.
I must say, it's the most marvellous luck,
Uncle Richard leaving us all this lovely money just now.
It means that we can produce our own plays.
We've got the chance of an option on a rather good piece.
A terrific lead for me and a good part for Rosamund.
It will make Michael's career.
Larry Olivier had better watch out.
I'm afraid there's a bit of a delay with some ofthe documents for the house.
- The money won't be available immediately. - But we can get an advance?
Michael said we could.
- It's terribly important. - There's no real hurry, sir.
It's just a question of whether or not to take up the option.
Michael?
Excuse me, I think I'm on.
Did Aunt Cora leave any money?
She left what she had to your sister.
Well, why Susannah, I'd like to know?
Michael! If you would be so kind...
But she hardly knew me.
And there's her share of the estate, of course.
Well, it all helps.
If you please, do forgive me, it is necessary that I ask of you both
as to your whereabouts on the day after the funeral of Richard Abernethie.
Helen was at Enderby. I asked her to stay on to look through Richard's things.
Thank you, Gilbert.
He asked me on the day of the funeral. And I was beastly to you in return.
Oh, please, Helen. It's quite forgotten.
I've come down for a few days to see Rosamund and Michael's play.
- I'm staying with Susannah. - Susannah!
George! Where have you been?
- Are you all right? - I'm perfectly all right, Mother. Why do you ask?
Aunt Cora's murder's all overthis rag.
This is Hercule Poirot. I've asked him to look into the circumstances.
I'd no idea you'd such famous friends. How do you do, Poirot?
Monsieur.
Poor old Aunt Cora.
I got the feeling she was just about to kick over the traces.
Don't be flippant, George.
I tried to reach you the day after the funeral and I couldn't get hold of you.
Yes, I went to the races. At Hurst Park.
Had two winners, as a matter of fact.
And your whereabouts, mademoiselle?
I went to the P&O shipping line. To enquire about travelling to Africa.
You're going to Africa?
Yes.
As soon as I can get a passage.
Mesdames, merci.
Monsieur, tell to me, if you please, the two horses on which you won some money.
What were their names?
Gaymarck and Isambard the 2nd.
Ah...
Merci.
When wasthe last time you saw Cora Gallaccio, Madame?
Oh, I hadn't seen Cora since our wedding.
I didn't like to say to Timothy, 'Your youngest sister's completely batty,"
but I'm afraid that's what I thought.
And she had this strange habit of putting her head on one side,
rather like a bird.
Very odd.
Mr Entwhistle has arrived, Timothy, with Mr Poirot.
Monsieur.
Good of you to come, Entwhistle.
I- I mustn't exert myself. It's doctor's orders.
Well, I can hardly believe it.
Poor little Cora, killed with a hatchet!
What's the damned country coming to, I'd like to know?
Mr Poirot is looking into Cora's death.
Oh.
I don't know what we want a private detective for.
My commiserations, Monsieur Abernethie.
It is a time most difficult for the family.
I understand that your brother also died recently.
Oh, this is what happens when you get into bed with socialists.
I mean, the whole country's falling apart.
Look at the state we're in we can't get decent servants.
Maude here working herself to a shadow, messing about in the kitchen.
Oh, by the way, Maudy,
I think a lemon syllabub would go very nicely with the sole tonight.
Of course, dear.
And perhaps a little clear soup first, hm?
Pss, pss, pss!
Well, I'll leave you to it.
Do take a seat, Entwhistle.
Thank you.
Now, look here...
Richard never said anything to me about wanting a cremation.
Now, who authorised that, may I ask?
Helen. It was what he wanted.
- Oh. - There'll be some delay over probate, I'm afraid.
We had a break-in at the office.
The Enderby deeds seem to be temporarily misplaced.
Oh, well. There's often a delay in these things.
But the will of your brother was a surprise most pleasant, n'est-ce pas?
I understand that you expected nothing.
Well, it's good of him to let bygones be bygones, you know.
Oui.
Madame is mending the car?
Oh, yes. She's had to learn how.
We can't afford the cost of garages, and, I mean, obviously I can't do it.
That old heap's always breaking down.
It broke down on the way home from the funeral.
Didn't manage to mend it herself- she had to take it to a garage.
Ended up having to put up overnight.
Oh, the cost of hotels these days, you know, it's outrageous!
Oui, c'est scandaleux.
Now, look, Entwhistle, I'm not well enough to have anything to do with inquests or burials.
You'll have to attend to all that side of things for Cora.
I mean, order a wreath, of course.
I don't know what one puts on a stone when it's murder?
You can't very well write "entered into rest" or anything like that.
Oh, Lord, thou hast seen my wrong.
Judge thou my case.
It is the Bible. Lamentations.
Yes.
Yes, it's appropriate... if somewhat melodramatic.
Don't shoot! I never meant for it to turn out like this!
Damn you! You deserve to die for what you've done!
(Unenthusiastic applause)
You two were terribly good.
- Oh, yes, you were m... - You don't have to be polite.
Thank goodness for that. The play's an absolute dog.
We know. There's no advance.
We're taking bets we'll close before the end of the week.
One becomes an actor because one loves the theatre.
- And one ends up playing appalling tripe. - Any actor would kill for good parts.
Gosh! It is enormous!
It must be quite terrifying.
Not when you're used to it, Aunt Helen.
The audience becomes one's bosom pal.
Drink, anyone?
Isn't it terribly sad about Aunt Cora?
I was looking at her at the funeral, thinking one might as well be dead if one looked like that.
- And now she is. - (Sniggering)
That is a wicked thing to say!
Oh, don't be so po-faced!
Entwhistle obviously took what Cora had to say about Richard at the funeral seriously.
If somebody murdered Uncle Richard and then realised Aunt Cora knew
they'd have to kill her, wouldn't they, otherwise she might go to the police.
And we heard her say it.
So Poirot thinks one of us must be the murderer!
Hello!
Huh?
Why didn't you come to the restaurant with us?
I am sorry Uncle Richard cut you out ofthe will.
It was a cruel thing to do, but you can't let it send you off the rails.
And there's no reason to be so beastly to your mother.
On the contrary, there's every reason.
In the end, what does money matter? You'd only lose it on horses or spend it on drink.
Well, you're out of it now, aren't you?
Off to Africa with the missionaries.
- George, don't! - No, Susannah...
They try to pull the wool upon my eyes, monsieur.
They are all lying, the whole family.
- Not all of them, surely? - Mais oui.
They are all lying about where they were on the day after the funeral.
Each of them could have been in Lychett St Mary
and murdered Cora Gallaccio.
No, they lied very well.
They are all "performers".
- Welcome to Enderby, Mr Poirot. - Merci.
C'est magnifique.
Dr Larraby, I thank you so much for coming here to see me.
Tell "to" me, if you please, if I wanted to poison a man who is sick,
and I wish that his doctors to suspect nothing, how would I achieve this?
Well, you'd have to use some kind of narcotic...
so there was no sign of cyanosis for anyone to spot.
And then arrange for his body to be cremated so that no evidence can be found.
It is possible.
If I'd had any suspicion about Richard's death, I would have informed the police immediately.
But cremation is a choice most unusual for an English gentleman, is it not?
Well, I was somewhat surprised, I must admit.
But that does not mean that he was poisoned!
He died of natural causes.
Oh, so you can say with certainty that Richard Abernethie he was not poisoned, hein?
No.
I wish I could.
It is possible that someone put a narcotic in his food
or extracted the oil from his vitamin tablets and replaced it.
But why would anyone want to do that?
Ah!
Monsieur Lanscombe?
- Oh, Mr Poirot! - Oui, oui.
Would you please be kind enough to tell me, in your opinion,
is it possible that Monsieur Abernethie took too much of his medicine in error?
Oh, no, sir.
The master's wits were as sharp asthey'd always been... right to the end.
Besides, Mrs Helen was here to keep an eye on things just in case.
So, Madame Helen Abernethie was staying here until Richard died?
Aye, she was.
She nursed him... right to the end.
And were there any other visits to the house during those last days-
or did anything occur that would have upset him?
Well, the vicar came to tea the day before.
Oh, and the morning he died, we had some nuns call.
- What is Nunscall? - Nuns.
- Ah! Religieux? - Oui.
Did they stay for long?
Oh, no, sir.
They were collecting for charity.
I understand that Monsieur Richard Abernethie had some family to stay during the last weeks?
Aye, he did.
First was Miss Rosamund and her husband
followed by Miss Susannah,
and... young George came last of all.
Was there anything unusual about these visits?
Well, the master and George had a terrible fight.
They got on well as a rule, but on that day...
I'd never seen them both so angry and upset.
George was in a terrible state...
Get out of my way!
Ah!
It was the day before the master died.
He never had a chance to make it up with George.
- And you were one of the witnesses to the will? - Aye.
Did you read the contents?
Well, he asked me to, but the truth is, sir...
...the old eyes aren't what they were.
I didn't want to tell him I couldn't see... in case he asked me to go.
But I just looked down the page and...
Page?
It was more than a page.
Oh, no, sir. I remember it well.
It were just one page.
It's not Richard's signature.
It's very like it but it's not his signature.
It's a fake, Poirot. The whole bloody thing's a fake!
How could I not have spotted it?
Because, mon ami, it is a very good fake.
Very good indeed.
Miss Gilchrist?
Susannah Henderson.
I'm Mrs Gallaccio's niece.
Oh, I'm sorry, come in, come in, Miss Henderson.
Thank you.
- I seem to have startled you. - You did, actually.
I'm not normally a nervous person but I've been jumpy since the police constable left.
The doorbell rang half an hour ago and I could hardly bring myself to answer it,
which is silly as a murderer is unlikely to come back and ring the doorbell, isn't he?
It was only a nun collecting for charity.
Miss Gilchrist, Aunt Cora left what she had to me.
I'll be staying a few days to go through her things.
What are your plans for the future, Miss Gilchrist?
I have to find another position.
Well, you're welcome to stay on here till you find one.
And I hope three months' salary will help.
That's very generous, Miss Henderson.
These are Mrs Gallaccio's own paintings.
She and Mr Gallaccio lived in Brittany and then in Cornwall.
Fishing boats are so picturesque, aren't they?
Mm.
Mrs Gallaccio did say she'd leave me some of her paintings.
These ones she painted herself, I mean, as a memento.
Oh! Help yourself to any of these you want.
- Did you want anything else? - Oh, no. Nothing more, thank you.
She left me a lovely amethyst necklace.
One could almost make picture postcards from these.
Did she copy?
No.
Mrs Gallaccio was a true artist.
George!
I didn't know you were down here.
I came to see if l could lend Susannah a hand.
- What, Susannah's here too? - Yes.
- What brings you down? - I've come to look in on Miss Gilchrist.
One or two odds and ends to sort out with Cora's papers.
Mr Poirot?
Ah, Madame Abernethie!
Mr Poirot, are you here because you think Richard was murdered?
Madame, I cannot tell whether Monsieur Richard Abernethie was murdered or not
but I understand that his sister made a remark to that effect at the funeral.
I don't like to speak ill of the dead, but from what I know of Cora
she wouldn't let the truth stand in the way of a good story.
No, but Richard had been to visit her and that is the truth.
Mr Poirot, Richard wasn't murdered.
He couldn't have been.
I was here with him almost to the end.
You stayed here often, Madame?
He invited me a few times in the last weeks.
He was very low in spirits.
Your son George also made a visit during those last weeks, I understand?
Richard had all the family down, not just George.
Tell "to" me, Madame were you surprised when your son George
did not inherit anything from his uncle?
Yes, I was.
It was a cruel thing for Richard to do, and I find it hard to understand.
I do not think you were meant to understand, Madame.
What do you mean?
Well, I suspect that the will that disinherited your son... it is a fake.
Did they get on well together, Madame Helen and Monsieur Richard Abernethie?
Oh, yes, the master were fond ofher, very fond indeed.
She went to London yesterday to see Miss Rosamund's show.
They seem to whiz up and down to London for almost anything these days.
- She was here all the time until yesterday? - Aye.
No, no, I tell a lie.
She went off in her car one day.
Said she wanted to be on her own.
Can you remember which day was that, Madame?
It was the day we had beef. It must have been the day after the funeral.
She didn't get back till after midnight and couldn't face it
and I remember thinking it was such a waste.
This were the Master's bedroom.
And his medicines, they were kept in here?
Yes, sir. By his bed.
Merci.
- So this is where...? - Yes.
That's one of Mr Gallaccio's paintings.
Racy.
Are you always such a prude, Susannah?
- Oh, excuse me.
Buon giorno, signorina Gilchrist.
Oh, dear. Oh, my goodness.
You'd better come in, Mr Gallaccio.
Grazie.
It's Mr Gallaccio.
Oh. Are you Cora's ex-husband?
Si.
Cora had written a letter asking me to come to look at a painting she had found,
which she... she thought might be valuable.
- Gilbert Entwhistle. Family solicitor. - Piacere.
Susannah Henderson. Cora's niece.
I am sad to meet you at this sorrowful time, signorina.
- George Abernethie. - Piacere.
Perhaps this is not the most appropriate time for the valuing, signorina.
It is better I take the painting away.
No, I don't think anything should leave the house.
No. You must value the painting, now that you're here.
Mrs Gallaccio hoped it might be an Italian primitive.
Do you think it's worth anything?
Accumulato sporco per molti anni.
Er... Dirt.
Dirt is a wonderful thing.
It gives a patina of romance to even a very bad painting.
I am glad perhaps I do not have to disappoint poor Cora.
This painting is probably not even worth the meagre shillings she paid for it.
Mi dispiace.
You were hoping for something valuable, Susannah?
I thought you had no interest in worldly possessions.
It's not for me, George.
It's for school books in Bechuanaland.
Ah.
I tried to ring George to tell him about the will but I can't get hold of him.
He said he'd be at home. I don't know where he can be.
Who would hate him that much?
Timothy? He didn't expect to get anything.
But to forge a will is a crime most serious, Madame. The police will have to be informed.
It must have been substituted on the day of the funeral.
Why?
Well, because until then it was locked in the safe at the offices of Monsieur Entwhistle.
Tell me, Madame, do you remember anyone going off alone that day?
Cora wandered off to see the tree house.
George stormed out, of course, but that was after the will was read.
And I remember Susannah going somewhere too.
It's no good, there was so much coming and going.
I felt there was something wrong that day.
In what way wrong, Madame?
Unexpected? Or surprising? Sinister even?
Not sinister, no.
More a sense of something not being quite right.
I can't put my finger on what it was.
Well, do not try to think of it, Madame.
Sooner or later it will, how do you say, plop into the mind.
Come on, Maude!
What on earth are you doing here?
If the house can't be sold and we can't get our money,
we're going to stay here until it's sorted out.
I don't see why you should have the run of my family home and full use of the servants
when Maude and I are struggling with no-one so much as to make us a... a cup...
... a cup of tea.
Get Lanscombe, Maude. Tell him to bring the chair.
Cora was not an artist...
...but she had the temperament of an artist.
She seemed to me a woman who didn't care tuppence about convention
or doing the right thing.
Admirable, I'd say. And very refreshing.
As a girl she was pieno di vitta. Come si dice? How you say- so full of life.
Oh, excuse me. I must catch the train back to London.
- Signorina... - Goodbye, Mr.Gallaccio. Very nice to meet you.
Thank you. Goodbye.
I'd better be going too.
- Find my way back to the hotel. - Yes, it's easy to miss.
But you can see the church...
So...
Oh, what's this?
How strange.
The postman must have called.
This was behind the umbrella stand.
It's addressed to me but I'm not expecting anything.
Do you know Mr Gallaccio well, Miss Gilchrist?
No, not well.
He's been here a couple of times.
It looks like wedding cake.
Did Aunt Cora write to him often?
- Well, yes, fairly often, I suppose. - Oh.
It is!
Who can it be from?
John and Mary.
I can't think who they are.
It could be Dorothy's daughter, her name was Mary, but I haven't heard of a wedding.
Would either of you like some of this?
- Not for me. - I don't like fruitcake.
Poor Aunt Cora.
Maybe I could sleep here on the couch.
No, we mustn't take advantage of you, Miss Gilchrist.
George can put up in the village.
George!
It just seemed odd to me. I thought I'd better let you know right away.
It's the Kings Arms Hotel. Lychett St Mary.
There may be an innocent explanation.
C'est possible, bien sur.
That is most useful information, monsieur most useful indeed.
I will join you there in the morning.
- Bonne nuit, mon ami. A demain. - Goodnight.
There's no going back now.
And I didn't know it was going to turn out like this, did I?
I certainly didn't think that painted little French popinjay would be here,
sticking his nose where it doesn't concern him.
It's a disaster, Timothy.
- We'll get caught. - Not if we keep our nerve.
We've just got to make it seem as if it never happened.
Help me!
Help! Help!
No... oh...
What's wrong?
- Are you ill? - Ye... I...
- I'll get you some bicarbonate. - No, get me an ambulance.
- We'll call a doctor in the morning. - Get an ambulance quickly!
I think I'm dying.
- Miss Henderson? - Yes.
I'm Inspector Morton, Lychett St Mary Police.
You gave the doctor a complete account of what Miss Gilchrist ate and drank last night?
Yes, we had the same thing.
Macaroni au gratin and a custard pudding.
Coffee afterwards. Why?
She must have had something that you didn't have.
Poirot, somebody's tried to poison Miss Gilchrist with arsenic.
Oh, no, that's impossible.
Oh!
The... the wedding cake!
I'm afraid I've not finished clearing up in here.
Et voilà.
Put a piece of wedding cake underneath a pillow and you will dream of your future husband.
That is how the saying it goes, n'est-ce pas?
Why on earth didn't she tell us?
No doubt because she felt that she would appear foolish, having such hopes.
I am so very sorry, mademoiselle.
But why would anyone want to kill me, Mr Poirot?
I've nothing to leave. Nobody would benefit from my death.
I think you must not stay at the cottage.
But where can I go?
When you are recovered, you must come to Enderby.
It is the family home of the Abernethies, and I myself will be there.
No, no, Mr Poirot. I couldn't.
Mademoiselle Gilchrist
I am commissioned to find the murderer of Madame Gallaccio.
And it is possible that you may be able to assist me.
But I don't know who killed Mrs Gallaccio.
But you may know more than you think.
Susannah?
- What are you doing? - I'm going.
- Where? - I don't know. Anywhere.
- Africa. - You can't run away now.
Don't be cowardly.
You are being beastly since you lost out on that money.
- It's not about the money. - Isn't it?
Isn't that all you really care about?
Don't go, Susannah. We're in too deep!
- I'm frightened! - Don't be frightened.
When you've done what I've done, fear becomes somehow meaningless.
Signor Gallaccio.
- Signor Entwhistle. - May I introduce Monsieur Hercule Poirot.
Signor. I have heard of you, of course.
And me also of you, signor. Your reputation, it goes before you.
I am commissioned to investigate the murder of your late wife, signor.
I wish to invite you to Enderby, the home of herbrother, Richard Abernethie.
Are you sure I would be welcome?
I was not allowed in the house of Signor Abernethie when he was alive.
The family are choosing keepsakes from the house before it is sold
and perhaps you would like to choose something on behalf of your late wife?
If you insist, I come.
Merci, signor.
- Good day. - Signor.
So, do you think he's the murderer, Poirot?
I must get up to Enderby myself.
I hate the thought of poor Helen stuck there with Timothy and Maude.
I also wish to speak to Madame Helen Abernethie.
I will meet you there, mon ami.
But first, I must go to the theatre.
Now, look, Poirot, please, don't pester Helen. She had nothing to do with all this.
- She wants to learn the truth as much as we do. - She has no alibi for the day after the funeral.
- She was at Enderby. - No, no, no.
She left Enderby early and returned late at night.
Well...
Well, that's as may be.
But she didn't kill anyone. She wouldn't.
She benefited from the death of Richard Abernethie just like the others.
You are fond of Helen Abernethie, mon ami?
It is easy to let the tender feelings cloud the judgement.
Check in her dressing room.
She's not there.
But you said you'd get away tonight.
I'll make up for it on Friday, I promise.
Miss Dainton, your call. Miss Dainton.
Change those shelves.
Poirot!
Um, Miss Dainton and I were just running through some lines from the play.
Ah, I see.
So you rehearse your parts?
- You're not trying to insinuate anything? - No, monsieur, I never insinuate.
- But I was hoping to see your wife. - You just missed her. She popped out.
Ah.
I would like to invite you both to Enderby.
Monsieur Entwhistle wishes the family to choose some keepsakes from the house
before it is sold.
You seem to be at home in this house, Madame.
It is sad that it isto be sold, n'est-ce pas?
One has to accept what comes in life, Mr Poirot.
There's no point in regrets and looking back.
- One could spend one's whole life regretting. - D'accord.
Madame, on the day before Richard died, what did he and George argue about?
Oh.
How careless of me. Oh, please...
I've... really no idea.
They were very fond of each other. They were bound to have disagreements.
Madame.
Tell to me, if you please,
where did you go on the day after the funeral, the day of the murder of Cora Gallaccio?
So I am a suspect in your investigations?
Madame, I only wish to discover the truth, and I understand that that is your wish also.
I went to scatter Richard's ashes.
There's a place out on the moors he was very fond of.
Did anyone see you there?
No.
It's an isolated spot.
Mm.
Madame, I have invited the family to come here to Enderby.
- You're setting a trap for someone? - No.
I do not yet know enough.
But I do know about psychology, Madame.
And when people are together in a room and they talk,
the truth, sooner or later it will always be revealed!
Monsieur Timothy, the family has been invited here to...
- You've trouble with the breathing, monsieur? - Asthma, old chap.
Since I was a boy.
Worse amongst the flora, do you see?
Timothy, are you all right now?
- Really, Mr Poirot. He's a very sick man. - Poirot!
Poirot!
The deeds of the house... I've just found them in my briefcase!
I must have been carrying them round with me the whole time.
Helen!
The deeds, they've just turned up.
So the house can be sold.
I'm going to the village. I want to get these sent down to the office right away.
- We'll drive up in the morning, then. - OK.
Oh, I'll be late tonight.
I'm dining with Oscar.
Darling Oscar.
Give him my love.
He'll be pleased to see you after all this time.
Anyone would think I hadn't seen him in months. We lunched togetherthe day after the funeral.
How funny.
He rang up yesterday and said he hadn't seen you since the opening night of Silver Swan,
which was... oh... six weeks ago.
He's forgotten. The old idiot's going off his head.
Don't take me for a fool, Michael.
You were nowhere near Oscar that day.
What about you? You said you were going shopping with Jane.
Jane's in America, has been for months.
We do want to take up the option and get this play on, don't we?
Want to!
It's the part I've always dreamed of.
It'll make me a star.
One mustn't take too many risks, then, must one?
Signorina, buon giorno.
Giovanni Gallaccio.
It is wonderful to be here at your beautiful English home.
No, it's not... mine.
Signora, actually.
Ah, si, signora.
Grazie, grazie.
Are we choosing keepsakes?
If we are, Michael and I want the green malachite table in the drawing room.
You can't have that, Rosamund. We want it.
And, for sentiment's sake, we should like to have the Spode dessert service.
We shall be quite content with that.
Too late, Uncle. The Spode's been marked down to me.
Marked down? What do you mean marked down?
Nothing's been settled yet.
What do you want with a dessert service?
You're not even married.
I thought no material gifts could replace your brother, Uncle?
Damn and blast, George! Keep out of it!
- Does it have to be that table, Rosamund? - Oh, do be quiet, Susannah.
- But if Timothy really wants it... - Oh, no, no, don't mind me.
I'm only Richard's last surviving brother.
Don't upset him, Rosamund.
You know his heart is weak.
Uncle Timothy will outlive us all. He's a creaking gate.
I don't wonder Richard cut you out.
- What do you mean? - The table is just right for the new play.
We want to give it the best chance we can.
We don't want it closing as soon as it opens, like Murder In Mayfair.
Close, did it? That's a surprise!
The malachite table is especially nice.
It must be worth a lot of money.
It will be deducted from our share of the estate of course.
I'm so sorry... I didn't mean...
The wax flowers look so right on it. Really artistic.
Do you actually think that table is going to fit in the car, Rosamund?
Well, it'll have to, Michael. I'm not coming back here for anything.
Rosamund you really are the most stubborn individual.
I... I feel rather unwell.
Maude, I need to lie down!
Of course, Timothy.
Honestly, that man. How does he do it?
Maude spends her life waiting on him hand and foot.
Yes, it's extraordinary, isn't it,
the way some women are loyal to buffoons of husbands,
when other men, men who should inspire real loyalty, are made fools of?
What was Cora's cottage like, Susannah?
- Did you see any of her paintings? - Yes.
They were rather... rather touching.
I think she copied from postcards.
Oh, no. Mrs Gallaccio would never copy. She was a real artist.
I remember at least one occasion when she suffered from sunstroke
because she wouldn't stop when the light was right.
Timothy has gone to bed.
Miss Gilchrist, would you kindly prepare a tray of milk and biscuits?
He needs a snack when he wakes up.
I'll do it right away, Mrs Abernethie.
I'm sure Aunt Cora did copy.
I didn't want to press it with Miss Gilchrist here.
And why are you sure, mademoiselle?
Well
her paintings are mostly seaside scenes and there's one of Polflexan,
the lighthouse and the pier.
But that pier burnt down five years ago. I read about it.
And her painting is dated last year.
Oh, yes,
and then in her bedroom I found an old postcard of Polflexan with the pier still in place.
Was this the first time you made a visit to Lychett St Mary, mademoiselle?
Yes.
Even if she did copy, I mean, it's not a crime, is it? I mean...
- Slow dance tune
Monsieur Entwhistle informs me that interest in buying this house
has been expressed by a convent school, run by les religieuses.
Merci.
You would say nuns.
Nuns are a good bet.
They'll look after the old place.
It's hard to imagine anyone wanting to become a nun.
The outfits are terribly flattering.
When they revived The Miracle Worker, Sonia Wells looked too glamorous for words.
I don't think one looks properly at nuns, or priests.
At their faces, I mean.
We don't look properly at anyone.
I remember reading somewhere
that witnesses in court often give wildly differing descriptions of the same person.
Is that true, Poirot?
It is so.
I find it odd, when sometimes you catch sight of yourself in the mirror
and you say to yourself, "Don't I know that person?"
And then you realise it's you.
It'd be more confusing still if you could really see yourself and not a mirror image.
Why?
Because no-one ever sees themselves as they really are, or as they appear to others.
Whenever one sees oneself in a glass, it is always as an image that is reversed.
Why does that make a difference?
People's faces aren't the same on both sides.
Their mouths go up on one side, down on the other.
And their noses aren't straight. Look, I'll show you.
There, do you see?
- They're not the same! - Here, let me.
Well?
You should be in bed, mademoiselle.
- I'm getting Mr Timothy's cocoa. - Oui.
Can I make you some?
Oh, that is most kind but I prefer to make my own.
I hope I'm not speaking out of turn, Mr Poirot,
but Mrs Gallaccio is dead and nobody in her family seems to really care.
That is perhaps because they did not know her as you did.
Young people nowadays seem so uncaring.
They don't know what it is to be alone in the world.
The journey of life, it can be hard for those of us who travel alone, mademoiselle.
Have you always been a companion to a lady?
Oh, no.
- I used to have my own teashop. - Ah.
The WillowTree.
It was a delightful little place, Mr Poirot.
All the china was blue willow pattern, so pretty, and the cakes were really awfully good,
if I say it myself.
But a Lyons establishment opened up nearby and my little place failed.
Ah.
This happens to many people in these times, I think.
It's Mr Timothy's bell.
Susie, are you really going to Africa?
Yes. I think so.
I wish you weren't.
Not just now.
Well, why?
You should come.
It might do you good to do something for someone other than yourself.
You've become so boringly priggish.
I'm beginning to wonder if you haven't done something bad
and you're being holier than thou to make up for it.
Actually, forget about the table. I want this.
Oh, excusez-moi, I intrude.
Oh, no, no, no, Mr Poirot, do come in.
There's something in here.
It looks like Uncle Richard's will.
"This is the last will and testament of Richard Abernethie
whereby I revoke all former wills made by me.
I devise and bequeath all the residue of my real and personal estate
and any property I have power to dispose of to...
George Abernethie,
to administer as he wishes."
This can't be right!
This is highly irregular!
Where did you find this, Rosamund?
But we really need the money.
I question the legality of these whole proceedings Maude,
I must telephone our own solicitor, at once.
George, I know this is what Richard intended.
Who would want to disinherit you?
Just about anyone in the family, I should think.
Well, whoever it was must have murdered Richard. I can't believe it.
And you think having the money is going to make up for what you've done?
No, of course not. I didn't say that.
- I just wish I could make you understand. - I understand perfectly, Mother.
George, you're my son. You're all I've got.
You want me to say that it's all all right? That I forgive you?
Well, I don't. I'll never forgive you.
(Remembers Poirot) No-one ever sees themselves as they really are,
or as they appear to others.
Whenever one sees oneself in a glass, it is always as an image that is reversed.
Mr Entwhistle, please.
Gilbert?
Oh, Helen... What is it?
I'm sorry if l woke you, but you're the only one I can trust.
Look, I've been thinking for a while now
that there was something wrong on the day of the funeral,
and I've remembered what it was but it doesn't make any sense.
It was something about the way... ugh...
Helen? Helen, are you there?
Hello? Are you all right?
Helen. Helen!
How bad is it?
It looks like a severe concussion.
- I'd like to be with her, if that's all right. - Of course.
Helen!
Gilbert.
Signor Gallaccio.
I have a commission for you.
She'll be all right in a day or two if it's a concussion, won't she?
I hope so.
Lanscombe do you know where the wax flowers are?
They were on the green malachite table.
Madame Helen Abernethie broke the cover of glass by accident.
They've been put in a cupboard under the staircase with the things that need mending.
How you can be thinking about wax flowers
when Aunt Helen has been carted off to hospital?
I'm sorry about Aunt Helen, of course, but we have meetings about the play next week.
I shouldn't be surprised if that Gallaccio took them.
He got a taxi from here in the middle of the night.
He is coming back, isn't he?
Come with me, Michael.
I'm not going into any dark corners by myself after what happened to Aunt Helen.
What do you mean, Rosamund?
Well... she was coshed, wasn't she?
I thought she fell and hit her head on the doorstep.
Oh, don't be naive. Somebody coshed her!
Oh, George! Is she all right?
It's obvious.
A detective in the house looking for clues,
Uncle Richard poisoned,
Aunt Cora killed with a hatchet
Miss Gilchrist sent poisoned wedding cake, a faked will
and now Aunt Helen struck down with a blunt instrument.
George!
Whoever faked the will must have coshed Aunt Helen!
You can't think anyone of the family faked the will and hit Helen on the head?
There was no-one else here.
You should be doing that, Poirot! You're the detective. Find out who faked the will.
For God's sake!
It was me, I faked the will!
I faked the will to disinherit myself!
All right, everyone?
Merci.
So
how is she?
She hasn't come round yet.
They sent me away.
So it was you who forged the will.
You feel better now that your conscience, it is clear?
You don't understand.
I killed him.
It's not true.
She loved my father. She would never have done that.
George, we fell in love. Don't blame her.
- I don't believe you! Leo is my father! - Look, I don't have much time.
This is my last will.
And you are my son, George.
I want you to take over everything.
I am not your son.
You're not my father. You're not my father!
I didn't want to hear what he was telling me.
He was tearing my life to pieces and he didn't seem to realise.
I could see he was sick.
I couldn't stop shouting at him that it wasn't true, that he wasn't my father.
Then I had the idea of substituting the will.
It was a stupid thing to do, I know.
I wanted to spite him.
My whole life was a lie, you see.
But the real will was burning a hole in my pocket.
I had to get rid ofit.
George.
I killed him, Poirot. I'm sure of it.
No, monsieur.
It was not an argument that killed Monsieur Richard Abernethie.
If you please, do excuse me.
I'm here to question Susannah Henderson.
She was at the King'sArms Hotel on the day of Cora Gallaccio's murder
but she didn't bother to inform us.
It looks as if it wasn't the casual crime we thought it was.
No, Inspector. It was not a crime that was casual.
It was an attack that was most brutal and I know how and why it was executed.
But I would ask you to hold off your questioning for a short while.
I am awaiting a concrete piece of evidence, the final piece of the puzzle.
- What kind of evidence? - I cannot say at the moment.
I may be wrong.
Doesn't often happen to you.
It has happened twice in my career.
That's a relief. To be right all the time might get a little monotonous.
I do not find it so.
Oh, we had a rather curious piece of information
from the Mother Superior of the convent in the next town.
She claims two of her nuns went to Mrs Gallaccio's cottage the day before the murder.
They couldn't make anyone hear when they knocked
but they're convinced someone was inside.
The day before? They are sure?
There's no mistaking the day. It's all entered in the convent book.
It fits! It fits very well!
Nuns!
That's a ridiculous idea, Poirot!
No, Inspector.
My ideas are never ridiculous.
Enfin.
All of the pieces of the puzzle are in place.
Monsieur Shane I would like to speak with you for a moment.
Mr Poirot, Michael didn't kill Aunt Cora. He couldn't have.
But he won't be able to tell you he has an alibi.
Because on the day after the funeral, he was with his mistress.
Rosamund
- I... - There's no point in lying, Michael.
Would you prefer to be accused of murder?
And you, Madame?
On the morning of the murder, you were seen in Camden Town.
You know?
Oui.
Madame?
I wasn't sure, you see.
I'm an actress.
The thought of getting fat and losing my looks...
Someone gave me a name and address but when I got there...
...it was so sordid
I couldn't go through with it.
I realised I wanted the baby.
A baby?
And the visit to the nuns?
I felt ashamed.
I wanted someone to talk to.
Rosamund, I...
Merci, Madame.
Monsieur.
- How long have you known? - A while.
That's why...
you didn't tell me about the baby?
Rosamund, I-- swearthat...
...it meant nothing.
It's you I love.
I won't see her again.
There's going to have to be big changes, Michael.
Messieurs, dames
I came here to Enderby
to investigate a murder and to solve a riddle.
First, Richard Abernethie
he dies suddenly, uh?
And then at his funeral, his sister Cora Gallaccio announces that he has been murdered.
But then the very next day, she herself is killed most brutally.
Her maid...
Pardon, her companion, Mademoiselle Gilchrist, is poisoned with the arsenic.
Madame Helen Abernethie is struck on the head and is rendered unconscious.
The deeds of the house go missing,
and the will that is false... is read.
So now, which, if any, of these events are linked?
Bien sur whoever stole the deeds of the house
would have to have been absent from the funeral.
You, Monsieur Timothy,
you have the great need of money,
and knew that you would not receive any from the will of your brother.
So you hatched a plan that on the day of the funeral,
you would break into the offices of Monsieur Entwhistle
and steal the deeds of Enderby.
Oh, that... that's a preposterous idea!
Non, non, non, monsieur. Your wife, she covered for you.
Maude, I know you want to get back to Timothy.
I'll whiz through things as quickly as I can.
Oh, please don't rush things on my account, Mr Entwhistle.
So realising that you had, as you say,
shot yourself in the foot,
you decided to try to put right your mistake.
That's ridiculous. I'm an invalid!
Are you, monsieur?
For certainement, when I talked with you, you claimed to have had an attack of asthma.
It's a lot of nonsense!
I think he's called your bluff, Timothy.
No, no, monsieur. You were desperate enough for money to stoop to theft.
The question remains... were you desperate enough to stoop to murder?
You, Mademoiselle Henderson...
...you said that you had never been before to Lychett St Mary, hein?
But when you spoke to Monsieur Entwhistle of the whereabouts of your hotel,
it was clear that you knew exactly where it was located.
Yes, it's easy to miss.
But you can see the church...
Inspector Morton is here to question you as to why you were in Lychett St Mary
on the morning that your aunt was murdered, and why you did not inform the police.
The morning after the funeral,
George rang to say he was going down to see Aunt Cora,
to ask about what she'd said at the funeral.
He doesn't have a car. I offered to drive.
And did you see her?
No. We didn't get to Aunt Cora.
We went to the hotel.
It wasn't planned.
But I can't forgive myself.
If we'd gone to the cottage, we might have saved Aunt Cora's life.
And we're cousins!
It's all wrong.
But I love him.
So...
the two of you were in Lychett St Mary, and nobody saw you leave.
So now I turn my attention... to motive.
Because it is the psychology of human behaviour which interests me.
Each and everyone of you would have killed Cora Gallaccio
to stop her revealing your murder of Richard Abernethie.
But are these two deaths inextricably linked?
Most certainement Richard Abernethie he dies most suddenly,
but there would have been no reason to suspect the foul play
had it not been for those words uttered by his sister Cora Gallaccio at the funeral.
But because of those words...
...you all believed that murder had taken place.
And so...
I ask myself a question that came into my mind, you know, so suddenly.
How well did each of you know Cora Gallaccio?
How do you mean?
The answer, mes amis?
Not well at all.
And so I ask myself another question.
Suppose it was not Cora Gallaccio who attended the funeral that day?
Aunt Cora wasn'tAunt Cora? Somebody else was murdered?
No, no, no, Madame. It was Cora Gallaccio who was murdered
but perhaps it was not Cora Gallaccio who attended the funeral of Richard Abernethie.
No.
The woman who attended the funeral that day, she came for one purpose only -
to exploit the fact that Richard Abernethie had died most suddenly,
and to implant into the minds of the relatives the thought that he had been murdered.
And this she managed to do most successfully.
What nonsense!
I mean, what was the point of it?
Permit me to explain.
If Cora Gallaccio announces that her brother has been murdered
and then she herself is killed the very next day,
then those two deaths are bound to be considered cause and effect.
And for Hercule Poirot
the prime suspect would be one of the family.
But... if Cora Gallaccio is killed
and her cottage is broken into,
and Hercule Poirot is not convinced by this burglary, then where is he to look?
Close at home.
At the woman who shared a house with her.
You're not suggesting I'd commit murder for an amethyst necklace and a few sketches?
No, no, mademoiselle. No.
For something much more important than that.
One of the sketches of Cora Gallaccio was of Polflexan Bay.
Susannah Henderson observed that it must have been copied from a postcard
because it showed that the old pier was still in place.
But, in fact, the old pier had burnt down several years before.
Madame Gallaccio always painted from real life.
You told that to us, Mademoiselle Gilchrist.
And then I remembered the smell of the oil paint as soon as I arrived at the cottage.
You can paint, can you not?
And you know a great deal about painting
because your father, he was an artist, n'est-ce pas?
And then Richard Abernethie, he dies suddenly,
and a plan, it sprang into your mind.
How easy for you to administer a sedative in her morning cup oftea
to render her unconscious for the day of the funeral, while you play her part at Enderby.
And you knew Enderby well from hearing Cora Gallaccio speak of it.
So simple then to begin with a remark to Monsieur Lanscombe
well, to convince him of your identity.
Dear, dear Lanscombe.
Do you remember when you used to bring meringues out to the tree house for us?
But that's preposterous! Nobody would have been fooled.
But nobody had seen Cora Gallaccio for over 20 years.
You wore her clothes padded yourself out to show her gain in weight.
No-one would have suspected you were not her.
And because Cora Gallaccio always wore the hair that was false,
it was easy for you.
But mannerisms are remembered.
And Cora Gallaccio had mannerisms that were, well, most definite.
All of which you practised most carefully in front of a mirror.
And that was where you made your first mistake.
You forgot that an image in a mirror, it is always reversed.
So when you observed your reproduction, oh, parfait,
of the birdlike tilt of the head of Cora Gallaccio
you forgot it was the wrong way round.
And it was this that puzzled Madame Helen Abernethie
at the moment that you made your insinuation.
She could not quite put her finger on what it was.
But then with all the talk about mirror images and how one sees oneself as others see us...
...she remembered.
So she tiptoed downstairs to make a telephone call...
...but someone else was about.
And they followed her down to listen in.
And fearful of what revelations she was about to make
struck her over the head.
I never did anything of the sort.
The whole thing is a wicked, wicked lie.
It was you that day.
When we arrived I vaguely felt I'd seen you before.
But, of course, one never really looks at...
No, one doesn't bother to look at a mere companion help.
A domestic drudge.
But go on, Mr Poirot, go on with this fantastic piece of nonsense!
Merci, mademoiselle.
I intend to.
And then to cover yourself still further,
you planted a letter,
from Richard Abernethie to his sister.
Of course, in a place where somebody would be bound to find it.
And in this letter there was a phrase, oh, so cryptic,
telling her that he had not long to live.
And then you actually poison yourself with arsenic, badly but not fatally.
Mademoiselle, you know, that is a device that is also very old.
It aroused my suspicions but immediately.
And what about the picture of Polflexan?
Ah.
I commissioned the valuer of painting, Signor Gallaccio,
to go to the cottage, remove the painting,
and take it to the London Academy of art.
If you please, signor.
If you please, do observe.
Voilà.
A Rembrandt.
Authenticated by two experts.
I recognised it immediately.
She didn't!
Always going on about how much she knew about art
and unable to recognise a Rembrandt when it was underher nose.
She was a thoroughly stupid woman!
Endlessly wittering on about this place and what you all did as children.
You don't know how truly stultifying it is
to listen to someone talking about the same things day after day,
and pretending to be interested.
"Oh, yes, Mrs Gallaccio," and "Really, Mrs Gallaccio?"
And in truth just bored, bored, bored!
And nothing to look forward to but more of the same.
And then...
then...
...a Rembrandt!
A Rembrandt had sold in London a few weeks before for £5,000.
You killed her in that brutal way for £5,000?
No, no, no, mademoiselle.
You mistake.
£5,000 would have bought and equipped a teashop.
You understand!
It was the only chance I'd ever get.
I had to have a capital sum.
A chance to recreate "The Willow Tree".
My own little place.
Freedom,
independence,
a servant to no-one.
Perhaps you'd like to come along with me, Miss Gilchrist.
Of course. I don't want to be any trouble.
If I can't have my little teashop,
nothing much else matters.
How very silly of me. I always do the wrong thing.
Please forgive me, it was really very stupid.
I'm sorry.
I'm so sorry.
But...
Extraordinary.
How did you work it out?
What made you suspect her?
It was the flowers of wax.
Mademoiselle you remember when you and your sister
were arguing on the evening that everyone arrived here?
Mademoiselle Gilchrist remarked how artistic the flowers of wax looked on the malachite table.
Well, she could not have seen them there because...
Madame Helen Abernethie had removed them before she arrived.
The only time she could have seen them was when she was here
masquerading as Cora Gallaccio.
How clever of you.
- Will she hang? - I cannot tell, Mademoiselle.
It may be that she will be admitted to an institution.
That is for the courts to decide.
I feel I should go.
Give it a try at least.
I think it's probably for the best.
Goodbye, sir.
- How long will you stay away for? - Um...
I don't know.
Goodbye, Gilbert.
- See you soon. - Yes.
Merci, Madame.
And thank you for your hospitality.
Thank you, Mr Poirot. For everything.
Madame.
Good morning, sir.
Merci.
Ah, goodbye, my dear.
Don't stay away too long.
Goodbye, Helen.